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From timid tap to thud feet come running-
Eyes in the back of necks dare open to the groan
of a grandfather ticking clock, fingers
fingers in fauna twist to turn as dry bones roll within casket homes-
snapping knees and grinding of joins vibrate through floors waking.
Souls-
the crack of a whip hollows out stones as they tip south-
Eyes wide shut.
              Eyes wide shut-
                                                          Eyes
Wrote this on paper. I feel as if paper gives you a whole different sense.
so much depends
upon

a red wheel
barrow

glazed with rain
water

beside the white
chickens
This morning
I brushed my teeth

my gums bled

and the sink
was spattered with
red

it's not how
why
or even where

it's that I was there
and it happened

Whit Howland © 2020
Sorry for the graphic detail. Minimalism.
When bad happens
let me always say

I love this stuff

and when thunder
booms

lightning
flashes

storms rage
floods come

let me stand
smile
and take a bow

and
as I let a dandelion always
be my flower

may
smiting drops of rain
always be

my song

Whit Howland © 2020
A word painting. Stoic message.
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